


Wes Has a Bad Time

by rayghosts



Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: Angst, Dissection, Gen, but not on danny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:08:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21733519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rayghosts/pseuds/rayghosts
Summary: The idea that Wes is Phantom is a popular joke. But that's all it is--a joke. ...right?
Comments: 4
Kudos: 44





	Wes Has a Bad Time

**Author's Note:**

> BIG BIG thanks to wastefulreverie for editing this fic!! it wouldn't have been as angsty as it is without her help (seriously, check her out)

By Danny’s standards, it was a normal day. And by ‘normal’ that entailed battling a large, snarling ghost wolf in the middle of Amity Park Park. But it was fine. After a year of experience, he was getting good at these daily fights, and the wolf provided no challenge for him. He captured the ghost with little difficulty, and the bystanders who were watching erupted into cheers. Well, most of them anyway.

“Fenton!”

At the exclamation, Danny reflexively turned his head. Realizing his mistake, he immediately regretted his decision. Wes Weston, smug as always, was standing behind him. Wes turned to the crowd and pointed out, “See? He responded to _his_ name. He’s Fenton!”

For a split second Danny worried that they might listen to him, but fortunately, his worries seemed to be pointless. On cue, the crowd groaned and collectively rolled their eyes. Paulina put her hands on her hips. “Really, Wes?” She spoke with enough expertise to deny his claim since she _always_ watched Phantom’s battles.

With wide eyes, Wes sputtered, “But—come on, that was solid proof!”

“ _Right_ ,” Paulina dragged out. “Just because he happened to turn his head in your general direction when you happened to say a name that happened to be Danny Fenton’s last name.”

The fury on Wes’s face was almost comical. He gestured again at Danny and yelled, “He literally looks the same!”

A mischievous smile crawled onto Danny’s face. His voice carried a mocking tone when he spoke, “Gee, Wes, I don’t know.” Floating closer to the boy, he placed a hand under his chin and pretended to inspect the red-headed teen. “I mean, _you_ look kinda similar to me, too.”

Dash laughed, lightly elbowing Paulina. When it came to watching Phantom’s fights, he did his best to accompany her. “I bet Wes is Phantom, and he’s just trying to frame Danny to keep his secret!” the jock conceived.

The steam out of Wes’s ears was nearly visible. “Seriously?” he seethed. He held out his arms Will Smith-style toward Danny and shouted, “How can _I_ be Phantom if _he’s_ right here?!”

“Duplication, duh,” Sam suggested. She and Tucker had been observing the entire exchange, straining to stifle their laughter.

Wes growled and grabbed a fistful of his hair. “Whatever, I’m leaving!” he decided. He fled from the park, ignoring the snickers from the crowd.

Phantom gave one last heroic wave to his audience before he vanished from the visible spectrum. A few feet away, no one noticed the flash of light behind a nearby tree, nor when Danny Fenton stepped out beside it. He joined his friends and watched the crowd disperse.

Once they were out of earshot, Sam was the first to speak. “Do you ever feel bad, bullying Wes like that?” she asked. The three friends met eyes for a moment. Breaking the tension, they all burst into laughter.

“As if,” Tucker choked. “That guy deserves it.”

Swallowing his laughter, Danny straightened himself. “Anyway, I’m sure Wes will be fine,” he pointed out. It’s not like Wes was in danger or anything, he was just… a jerk. Danny wouldn’t joke about it if it was actually serious. As it stood, the worst thing that came out of Wes’s wild accusations was some mockery from his classmates.

Danny grinned, kicking his shoes against the sidewalk. “So,” he gestured to his left, “Nasty Burger?”

Sam and Tucker murmured in agreement and the trio finally exited the park. On their way to the restaurant, they passed a bulky white van, but none of them thought much of it. It was just a white van; it wasn’t peculiar or anything.

The next day, Wes didn’t come to school.

Nobody really cared. Wes was known to cut class everyone now and then. Since adopting his obsession with Danny, he spent so many nights plotting Danny’s grand exposure that he either overslept or simply forgot about school.

Everyone simultaneously decided to enjoy this Wes-free time; any break from having his conspiracy theories shoved down their throats was welcome. Tucker even joked that this was like a vacation for them. The day passed, and Wes remained absent, but nobody thought much about it. People missed school all the time! He must have gotten sick or something.

With all his other problems, Danny easily put Wes out of his mind… until later that night. He’d finally managed to find some time to do homework (for once) when Jazz inevitably interrupted his study-time. She entered his room with a knock and held out a phone, gesturing for him to take it.

“Someone wants to speak with you,” she told him. Danny furrowed his brows. The only people that ever called him were Sam and Tucker… and they only called his cellphone.

He spun his desk chair around and accepted the phone. Before putting it to his ear, he asked Jazz, “Who is it?”

Jazz shrugged. “Some adult. He says his son is your friend.”

The only person Danny could think of was Tucker’s dad (Sam’s dad would be caught dead before talking to him). So why would Tucker’s dad be calling him? Doing little to filter his confusion, Danny raised the phone to his ear and answered it. He was taken aback when he realized that he wasn’t talking to Maurice Foley; it was Walter Weston— _Wes_ ’s dad.

“Hi, uh,” Walter started, “have you talked to Wes today?”

Danny thoughtlessly shook his head, then realized Walter couldn’t see him. “No?” Danny replied apprehensively. “He didn’t come to school today. Why?”

He heard rustling on Walter’s end of the call and assumed that he was pacing back and forth. “He’s not home. I haven’t seen him… not since yesterday. Out of everyone, I thought you might know something since he’s…”

“Obsessed with me?” Danny completed.

Walter hesitated, “… yeah.”

And suddenly, despite not caring about Wes, Danny was worried. Wes wasn’t the type to run from anything, especially away from home. And if he’s been missing since yesterday, then it was logical to believe that something must have happened….

But Danny didn’t have the faintest idea where Wes might be. He bit his lip and told Walter, “I’m sorry. I don’t know anything.”

Walter sighed, obviously disappointed. “That’s fine. Just… call me if you see him.”

The line was hung, and Danny tried to go back to his homework, but he found it hard to concentrate. He tried telling himself that Wes was fine, and that he probably slept over at some fellow conspiracy theorist’s place or something. Still, that night when he patrolled the city for ghosts, he made sure to keep his eyes out for any red-haired teen. He didn’t find Wes.

The next day, Wes was still absent. Like before, everyone else at school didn’t mind. Heck, nobody really even noticed. Those who had picked up on Wes’s disappearance had decided that he was sick and was spending his days at home. But Danny knew that wasn’t the case—not after his phone call with Walter.

“So you think Wes is missing?” Sam asked. They were sitting at their usual table in the cafeteria. He couldn’t hold it in anymore and had told her and Tucker about Walter’s call.

“He hasn’t been home for almost two days now. What else could it be?” Danny replied and ran a hand through his hair.

“Maybe he…” Tucker paused, trying to think of a good reason for Wes to spend two days away from home. He came up dry. “Okay, fine, maybe it’s a _little_ concerning.”

Danny picked at his nails anxiously. “What if something bad happened to him because of me?”

Sam crossed her arms. “You mean because he _chose_ to spend his time trying to expose you?” she pointed out with a defensive tone.

“Well, yeah…” Danny amended, “but I still feel kind of responsible.” He stared straight ahead, looking between the A-List and geek tables. “Remember that time he followed Skulker into the Ghost Zone to go after me?”

“You think Wes might be in the Ghost Zone?” Tucker wondered.

Danny shrugged. “It’s possible. Otherwise, someone would’ve found him already.”

“So… what?” Sam figured. “You’re gonna search the entire Zone for him?”

Danny seemed to deflate, but then he perked back up as an idea came to him. “Maybe I don’t need to scour the entire Ghost Zone….”

Hours later, after school was over, Danny made his way to the Far Frozen. He found Frostbite inside one of their grand caves and pulled him aside for a favor. Frostbite bristled hesitantly. “I am not so sure,” he expressed. “The last time I lent you the Infi-Map…”

“It won’t be like last time,” Danny assured him. “I promise. It’s just to find my friend.”

The frost giant pondered a while longer, but he eventually acquiesced. “Very well,” he said. He strode to the center of the cave and stopped in front of a floating chest encased in pale blue light. He unlocked the chest with a shard of ice and pulled out a golden scroll. Carefully, he handed it to Danny.

Danny nodded and thanked the yeti ghost. “I promise I won’t lose it this time,” he assured. With a sound resolution, he held the map a few feet from his face and declared, “Take me to Wes.” For a moment, nothing happened, and he wondered if he had been too vague; but then the map lurched, and Danny’s world spun as it pulled him out of the cave. The Ghost Zone passed in a whirl of green and purple before he was finally led straight to a newly formed natural portal.

Danny wasn’t exactly sure where he expected to land, but it certainly wasn’t here. As soon as he fell through the portal, he was greeted with the distinct scent of antiseptics and concentrated ectoplasm. It reminded him of his parents’ lab, but there was something else here… some sort of coppery smell? Danny glanced around and realized that this _was_ a laboratory. _But why would Wes be here?_ he wondered.

He inspected his surroundings more and found that there were tables with beakers, microscopes, and other standard lab equipment. Metal shelves lined the wall, containing what looked like… ecto-weapons? And in the center of the room…

Danny’s stomach did a sickening flip. He felt like he had just floated upside down at two-hundred miles per hour, but his feet were placed firmly on the linoleum floor. Danny fought his nausea and forced himself to keep looking at the ghastly sight.

In the center of the room was a metal table with leather straps, like some sort of demented operating table. It was long enough for a human to be laid on, at least six feet long. And in the dim light of the room, Danny could perceive the sheen of dark, crimson blood. So, _so_ much blood.

Danny practically clasped his hands over his mouth to keep himself from crying out, an alarmed scream halfway up his throat. His stomach lurched again, and this time he was aware that he might… might _throw up_. Oh Ancients, not good not good not g—

He was subtly rocking back and forth to ease his stomach, to refrain from vomiting. The soft motion helped a bit with his nausea, but did little to soothe his abject terror. And suddenly, he was aware of nearby voices—both male—speaking nearby. To preserve his presence, he quickly turned himself invisible to avoid being caught.

He realized a moment later that the voices were coming from an adjacent room.

“Are you sure?” asked one of the men.

“The evidence is indisputable,” replied the other. “He’s a living human. One hundred percent organic matter, beating heart, lungs, brain—he only has trace ectoplasmic contamination, normal for Amity residents.”

The first man cursed. “So we got the wrong guy.”

Danny hadn’t even realized that he was subconsciously backing away from the voices until he bumped into a metal table. The force of the impact toppled an empty beaker over the edge, breaking it into innumerable shards.

The voices lulled. Then he heard footsteps approaching the door. Danny panicked and turned himself intangible, shooting through the opposite wall and landing in a new room. He realized too late that he had accidentally dropped his invisibility along with his intangibility when a weak voice prompted his attention.

“Danny?”

He instinctively turned to face whoever spoke his name and froze. It was like a vacuum had sucked all the air out of the room, leaving Danny’s lungs empty. In front of him was a shimmering, green barrier—most likely a ghost shield—and behind that transparent wall was… “Wes?”

Admittedly, Danny didn’t even recognize him at first glance. His usually tidy hair was mussed in every direction, dull and greasy. His cheeks were prominently sunken, like he hadn’t eaten in a long time. Not to mention, his bloodshot eyes were weary and tired, emphasized by the dark bags hung under his eyelids. Fresh bruises were peppered across his skin, mottling his skin in hues of blue and purple.

“What—” Danny’s tongue felt like it was tied in a knot, crossed over itself multiple times. “What happ—why—” He struggled to comprehend _why_ Wes was like this, who had done this. Danny stepped close to the ghost shield separating them and pressed his hand against it, trying to move it through the barrier, but it was rock-solid.

Wes’s lips curled into a perturbing smile. His eyes were humorless, chilling. “Why?” Wes’s voice cracked. He sounded dehydrated, broken… Danny doubted he had drunk anything all day, or… maybe he had spent all day screaming. His green eyes misted over and met Danny’s own terrified, neon stare. “They thought I was you.”

His words hit Danny like a hard blow.

The joke that Wes was Phantom had existed for a long time, long before Wes was set on exposing Danny. But that was all it was—a _joke_. To think that someone genuinely would believe it….

It was then that Danny noticed the bandages wrapped around Wes’s bare chest. At some point, they had stripped his shirt, which allowed Danny a good look at all the new scars gracing Wes’s torso. The white gauze of his bandages was stained with fresh blood, and Danny was instantly reminded of all the blood he had seen on the operation table. Once again, his stomach plummeted—and so did he. Danny dropped to his knees and scoured his gaze across all of Wes’s injuries (that were _his_ fault).

In his peripheral vision, Danny saw his own hand shaking from where it was still pressed against the shield. He considered turning human so he could pull Wes out, but Wes read his train of thought. “Don’t bother transforming,” he informed. “The shield works for both ghosts and humans—you can’t do anything.”

Danny’s eyes darted back to Wes. His chest crumpled at how broken his classmate looked. Wes didn’t deserve to be in this situation. As annoying as he was, he should never have been mistaken for Danny. Despite his helplessness, Danny’s core throbbed with dedication. “I’ll get you out,” he promised.

For a moment, Danny thought he saw a glimmer of hope in Wes’s eyes, a small light in the abyss of dull misery. But it was short-lived. The footsteps—the men from the other room!—returned. Danny whipped around to find a group of white-clad men holding ecto-rifles. Guys in White agents. Of course, how could he have been so blind? The Guys in White were the only organization inept enough to truly mistake Wes for Phantom, ignorant government cronies.

Danny didn’t have time to prepare when they raised their weapons, aiming to fire. Blasts assaulted him from every direction and Danny did his best to fight them off, using the ghost shield behind him to his advantage—unlike a regular wall, the shield would deflect all of their blasts back at them. However, no matter how hard he tried, he knew that it was useless; Danny was outnumbered, and he wouldn’t last forever. It was impossible to defeat them all and break Wes out of the shield before the next round of agents.

In the end, he was pinned under a ghost-proof net, bleeding in about three different places. An agent, a man with cold eyes and calloused hands, stood over him with a lopsided grin. “Looks like capturing the human wasn’t useless, after all,” he said. He placed a foot over Danny’s crouching form. “We got the ghost boy.”

Danny gritted his teeth. He was out of options, and at this point, he wouldn’t be able to escape with Wes. Sure, he still had the map, but he couldn’t just leave him behind… left at the GiW’s mercy…

But what choice did he have?

Danny glanced sideways and met Wes’s desperate stare. Guilt and defeat wracked his conscience and Danny clenched his fists. He didn’t want to… everything in him _screamed_ not to do it. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Wes’s eyes widened. “What?”

Danny held the map in front of him, ignoring the agents’ curiosity and Wes’s gasp of realization. The red-headed boy crawled toward the shield’s wall, trembling as he fought tremors of pain, “No, no, don’t leave me—”

“Take me back,” Danny told the map, firmly holding onto the scroll. The GiW agent standing over him stumbled backward when Danny was pulled out from under the net. As he was whisked away, he heard one last desperate cry from Wes. And then, he was swallowed by a portal to the Ghost Zone, and everything vanished into green.

It was a matter of seconds before he was pulled onto a floating rock and collapsed on his knees. A glance over his shoulder confirmed that the portal he’d been pulled through had closed itself, meaning the GiW wouldn’t be able to follow him. Even though he _knew_ that he was safe now, he couldn’t seem to calm himself down. His breath was still erratic and his hands—dang hands—wouldn’t stop shaking.

He couldn’t stop thinking about Wes and all the scars that had been marked across his pale body, followed by the image of that bloody table. Bile rose in his throat and he haphazardly swallowed it, forcing it down. If what he thinks happened _did_ happen, then….

One of Danny’s biggest fears that he never spoke about, not even to Sam or Tucker, was the fear of being dissected. After all, he was threatened with it enough that it was a probable situation. His biology was rare; obviously getting him on a lab table was any scientist’s _dream_. His parents rambled on and on about dissecting ghosts that he dreamt about it too—being strapped to an examination table, crowded by scientists, sterilized scalpels digging into his skin. And in every nightmare, he was always the one staring into the eyes of the scientists, on the receiving end of their knives. Not Wes. It was never meant to be Wes.

He clenched his fists. It was never meant to be Wes. This was never supposed to happen, so Danny would make sure it never would… couldn’t… happen.

He made up his mind, stood from his rock, and propelled himself into the air. He knew the way to Clockwork’s lair like the back of his hand and was there in minutes.

“No,” Clockwork refused, upon his arrival.

Danny wasn’t surprised, but that didn’t make him any more content with Clockwork’s answer. “I know you saw what happened to Wes,” he pressed. “They… they thought he was me. It’s wrong. He shouldn’t have been captured.”

Clockwork’s red eyes studied Danny as he shifted into a child, unchanging. “So you’d rather they capture you, instead?”

Danny hesitated. Worst fear or not, Wes didn’t deserve what they had done to him. The images were burned into his eyelids: Wes’s body mottled with half-healing scars, curled up in a heap on the floor, and the sinister curl of the GiW agent’s lips…. He met Clockwork’s eyes with a determined stare. “Yes.”

Clockwork’s sharp gaze softened, shifting into an old man. “I’m sorry,” he stated, “I can’t help you.”

Danny clenched his fists. “So you’re just going to leave him there?” he accused, more desperate than angry.

“Of course not,” Clockwork replied with a staid frown. “He’s going to be released whether I interfere or not.”

Danny blinked in surprise. “Really?” he asked. Clockwork nodded and shifted into a young adult.

“The GiW have seen that he’s not a ghost. They’ll be sending him home by next morning.”

Instantly, Danny felt slightly relieved, but Clockwork’s news didn’t ease all his troubles. He believed the time ghost, seeing as he had no reason to lie. Still, he couldn’t help remember the blood across the table, slick and pooled across the metal surface. Wes’s dark bandages and his abject desperation when Danny left him alone with the agents. Even as a ghost, he found himself shiver. “He won’t be the same,” he realized, quietly.

Clockwork leaned against his staff and turned to look at the circular time window next to them. Danny couldn’t see anything but a swirling green vortex, but Clockwork seemed to discern something in the window. “He’ll heal with time,” he said, watching the swirling green window, knowingly. “You go home. I promise you will meet Wes tomorrow.”

Everything in Danny wanted to argue, to protest that he wanted to speak to Wes now. That he wanted Wes to be okay _now_ , but he knew that it would be useless against the master of time. Reluctantly, he flew from Clockwork’s lair and (after returning the Infi-Map to Frostbite) returned to the human world through the Fenton Portal.

No matter how much he tried, he couldn’t sleep that night. Every time he closed his eyes, he was revisited by graphic images of Wes being tortured, tools of all sorts ripping him open, searching for evidence that he was Phantom—looking for something that only Danny had. He saw Wes pressed against the floor, clutching his bandages, and shaking as he bled. He twisted and turned until finally he couldn’t ignore the sunlight breaking through his curtains.

Normally, Danny flew to school, but something compelled him to walk today. Since it was earlier than usual and Sam and Tucker probably weren’t awake yet, he figured he’d walk alone. His body moved on autopilot, his legs carrying him mechanically to the direction of Casper High.

At least, he thought it was the direction of Casper High. He managed to deceive himself for a while until finally he looked up and found himself standing in front of Wes’s apartment building.

And there, sitting on the doorstep, was Wes.

Danny inhaled sharply. That action must have alerted Wes to his presence because seconds later the broken red-head lifted his head to meet Danny’s eyes. Danny lost himself in the emptiness of Wes’s eyes and realized that they looked just as tired as they had in the GiW facility.

“You’re okay,” Danny managed to say. Even as he said it, he knew it wasn’t true. After what he figured had happened to Wes, he was certain that he could never be okay. Who could?

Wes must have been thinking the same thing, but he kept his silence. His demeanor darkened and he growled, “No thanks to you.”

Danny gulped. “I’m sorry,” he expressed. His apology was heartfelt, but it did little to express his desire that none of this should have happened. He moved closer to Wes, who kept his posture still and guarded. “I didn’t want to leave you behind, but there was nothing I could do, and…” he trailed off and bit his lip. What could he possibly say to make up for leaving him? For any of this screwed up situation? He didn’t know, he couldn’t think. Staying up all night had stolen any coherent apology he might have been able to scrounge up. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, softly.

Wes’s eyes were glued to him, yet dark and unreadable. “Sorry for not trying harder, or for getting me into this mess in the first place?” he ground out.

Danny winced. “I—I never meant to… but you know I had to keep my identity a secret.”

“So you’re glad they caught me instead of you?”

Danny’s eyes widened. “No! Of course not—”

Wes cut him off by standing up. Danny didn’t miss the way that he winced when he moved, pulling himself to his feet. This time when Wes looked into Danny’s eyes, he didn’t mask his pain—Danny could sense his unfiltered agony and cringed.

“I told them I wasn’t a ghost,” Wes began, “but they didn’t believe me. Even after they ran all their tests, they thought I must be hiding my _ghostliness_ in some way,” he emphasized bitterly. “So they…” A lump formed in Wes’s throat, and he turned his gaze to the sidewalk, letting his eyes roam across the sparkly concrete. He took a shaky breath, one so soft that Danny wasn’t sure he could’ve heard without his enhanced senses. He looked back to Danny and whispered, “They cut me up.”

Danny fell silent. He didn’t know what to say. After all, who could even respond to that? All he could do was watch, paralyzed, as Wes sniffled and wiped away a stray tear.

“It doesn’t matter,” the red-head finally decided. “They know now.”

That admission snapped Danny out of his guilt-ridden haze. “Know what?” He had a suspicion… but no. Not that. They _couldn’t_ know that.

“I told them, of course,” Wes nonchalantly explained. “That you’re Phantom. They didn’t listen at first, but after realizing it wasn’t me, well… they did.”

Suddenly, Danny grew aware of the white van in his peripheral vision. A door slid open and men started stepping out of it, armed with guns aimed at the two of them. He knew, now, why Wes was sitting on the doorstep out in the open. They had been counting on his arrival. Wes was bait—and he had fallen for their trap. He felt his heartbeat accelerate, yet he didn’t look away from the broken boy standing before him.

“They were probably listening to our conversation,” Wes stated, eyeing the agents behind Danny. “If they had any doubts about what I told them, they’re gone now.”

The weapons whined as they charged. White boots crunched against gravel as they approached, closer and closer—

And Wes smiled, his first real smile since he had been taken. “You should run now,” he suggested. “I wouldn’t want you to go through what I did.”

Danny ducked at the perfect moment, barely avoiding getting shot. He felt the blasts from the weapons soar where his head had been a split second before and whipped around. He eyed the agents that were surrounding him, doing nothing to mask the fiery green glow in his eyes. It was too late. They know now, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

_They know._

With one last glance at Wes, Danny turned himself invisible and kicked off the ground, using what limited flight he had in human form. Wes was right, he had to run—because once they caught him, it would be all over. He’d end up just like Wes, but they wouldn’t let him go. They’d keep him and use him as their sick little lab rat until he finally died.

He had to run… had to… _run_.


End file.
